Always a Way
by Made2bbroken
Summary: "So this is how it's going to end?" The last thought that entered Julian Sark's head as he lay on his back, a .9 mm pushing roughly against his temple. It was a little too cliché for him, the assassin always got betrayed in the end. *PERMANENT HIATUS*
1. Loathing of the Beautiful

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any part of Alias

The dim light of the moon shown down upon the bare Mojave Desert casting the sand in a strange bluish light. In the darkness one could just barely make out a small party of people. All of them seemed to be focused on one single man in the center of the group.

"So this is how it's going to end?" The last thought that entered Julian Sark's head as he lay on his back, a .9 mm pushing roughly against his temple. It was little too cliché for him, the assassin always got betrayed in the end or at least he did, unless of course it was him doing the betraying. But he said it even if it wasn't the end, which was most likely the case.

He could always find a way out, always.

The man holding the gun flashed him an evil grin revealing a set of mangled, yellowing teeth. "Quite a repulsive brute aren't you?" Sark commented, his smooth English accent caressing every syllable.

The grin on the man's face was replaced with a look of utter dislike. "Cock sucker," he muttered in a thick Scottish accent, smacking the gun across Sark's face. "I'll teach you to talk back to me." Sark found himself being thrown into the sand. He pulled himself up, using the distraction to start untying the ropes that bound his hands from behind. It proved to be a far more difficult task than first anticipated.

Sark licked the fresh blood off his lip, smirking at the man. If he was going to die he would at least die with his dignity in tact. "Dammit man, you hit like a little girl, don't I at least get the privilege of a competent guard?"

The look of intense fury on the man's face was enough to make Sark laugh out loud. The man was about to hit him again when a loud voice made him stop suddenly.

"Please Angus, calm yerself laddie, Mr. Sark will pay his dues in good time."

Sark recognized the voice immediately. "MacLean, Travis MacLean, you son of a bitch." Sark's brilliant blue eyes stared into the other man's dark ones with a passionate ferocity. Then he let out a hollow laugh that was lost in the wind.

"It's nothing personal Mr. Sark. You see, you've become somewhat of threat to our project as a whole, what with your constantly changing loyalty and all. So myself and our nameless employer have decided to," at this MacLean paused smiling, "dispose of you. Buck up laddie," MacLean said seeing the look of utter distaste on Sark's face, "just think what an honor it is to be killed by myself."

With that MacLean pulled out a gun that was in fact Sark's own Jericho 941. It had been taken from him when he had initially been knocked out in LA. This stirred Sark's rage even more. He forced himself to take a calm tone. "I see you've taken my gun McLean, fancy it do you?"

"It is a nice little trinket isn't it?" MacLean said running his free hand down the gun's handle. "You can take comfort in the fact that I'll keep this little beauty for myself, so it won't go to waste once you're dead."

Sark watched as MacLean lifted the gun and rested it on the side of his head. The ropes were almost untied, just a couple seconds longer.

"Any last wishes Sark?" MacLean asked mockingly, his eyes gleaming maliciously in the moonlight. "No, alright then, let's get this over with." He shut one eye and pointed the gun at Sark's head.

The next few moments happened so fast that Sark barely had time to process any of it. There was a gunshot but Sark felt no pain. He had managed to untie himself and had sprung forward to grab a gun from one of the men surrounding him.

Sark took the man closest to him by surprise and knocked him unconscious with one blow. More gunshots followed the first. Sark whipped around, gun in hand, to face the spot where MacLean should have been.

What he found was McLean, crouched to the ground grasping his leg tightly. Blood stained his pants and was oozing everywhere. Sark looked past MacLean to the shooter who was busy fending off some of McLean's men. He couldn't quite make out their form but there was something familiar about the person.

Sark helped them out by shooting down a couple of men from where he stood. A couple of moments passed and the desert was silent once again, save the small whimpers that were uttered from MacLean.

Sark stood face to face with the person that he most likely owed his life to. It was a woman. She had long silky brown hair tied back in a loose bun. Her large brown eyes met his and Sark found himself unsurprised as to who it was. He had dealt with her many times and though he loathed her he could not deny that there was no other beauty like hers. "Sydney Bristow, it's been a while hasn't it?"

I hoped you liked it..more chapters coming.. ;)


	2. Too Many Questions

Sydney Bristow stared at the man before her silently. She hadn't expected Sark to be there, but then again, big decisions that were outside the law always seemed to have him involved in some way.

She took in his full appearance. Blood was caked in his disheveled golden blond hair. His bottom lip was swollen and heavily bleeding and a large bruise was forming on his left cheek. This was definitely not his normal, suave appearance that he presented on most occasions. "So I'm guessing it was you who got double crossed this time Sark." She said in an amused tone. "I'm almost sorry I had to butt in and ruin MacLean's fun."

Sark's blue eyes met hers, a smile playing across his lips. "Sydney, I'm sure I could have managed without your presence, as welcome as it is."

Just hearing him speak made Sydney want to shoot him right then and there. When he said her name in his deep British accent, it always sent shivers down her back and that alone made her want to kill him.

While Sydney was lost in her own world, Sark had walked towards MacLean and threw down the gun he had been holding. He pulled MacLean's head back by his hair. MacLean was still whimpering, though his leg had finally stopped bleeding.

Sark bent down past MacLean to pick up his own gun that lay discarded at MacLean's side. Casually he raised himself so that his mouth was close to MacLean's ear. "You're one lucky fuck." He said in a barely audible whisper. "If Miss Bristow wasn't present, you can be sure that your leg wouldn't be the only painful sensation in your body." With that said, Sark threw back MacLean's head as if it was something truly repulsive.

Sark heard a faint click from behind him. He turned around to see Sydney pointing her gun at him poised to fire. His lips curved into a smile. "I see you've finally come to your senses."

"Shut up Sark." Sydney spat. "Just drop the gun and get your hands over your head."

"And what if I don't comply with your humble request? Are you going to shoot me?" The whole situation was very humorous to him and he wanted to let her know that just because he knew it would rouse her.

"You know I will if I have to Sark. Back up will be coming soon, so quit asking stupid questions and just do it!"

Sydney was growing agitated with every passing moment and Sark could tell. "Getting a little impatient are we? You know, maybe I'm just a little paranoid but I think you're lying about every thing that you just said."

Sydney's confidence was a little bit shaken. How could he possibly know that, she hadn't let on any hints or anything else that would prove otherwise. "Well it's obvious to me that you're perception is off, I mean why wouldn't I kill you? And why would you think I don't have backup?"

"It's obvious isn't it? I'm much too valuable to just kill off, daddy Bristow wouldn't be very happy if you came back with only my deceased body. What good am I to him dead? And I suppose I should answer the other question just to kill two birds with one stone."

Sark paused for a moment. By this time Sydney was utterly flustered. Why was he always right? Why did he always have to be right? Most of her wanted to call him a pompous, ass who thought he was way better looking than he actually was. But the other half knew that he was right and that she was just being bitter. But of course, she let her first half get the better of her. "Well, I'm waiting, where's your brilliant deduction?" She said testily.

"Calm yourself, no need to be hasty. I was just looking for an adequate way to phrase this. Well, first of all, you're not wearing the traditional CIA color which is of course black on black."

It was true. Sydney stood there in a faded gray sweatshirt and a pair of blue track pants. When her contact had told her of MacLean's whereabouts, she hadn't really bothered with the proper attire.

Meanwhile Sark continued. "Also, when someone is wearing an ear piece of some sort, which you CIA almost always do, I can tell. It's something in the eyes that gives it away. The only thing I really can't get my head around is why you're even here in the first place. MacLean hasn't been on CIA radar in a very long time, so I have to assume that your business with him was strictly personal. Sark paused again to look at Sydney. "You wouldn't by any chance be willing to share?"

Sydney scowled and Sark heard a distinct click signifying that she had taken the safety off of her gun. She didn't like the way this conversation was going. Sark was too smart for his own good.

"I suppose that's a no." Sark sighed. "Sydney just let me go and I won't tell anyone that we were here. You and me, oh and of course this sad bastard here," Sark paused kicking at MacLean, "is the only ones who know about this. So lets just be done with the matter shall we?" Sark turned to walk away.

Two gun shots rang out into the desert air. Sark froze momentarily turning around to find Sydney charging at him. He didn't have time to react and was hurled backwards into the sand with Sydney on top of him, knocking the wind out of him. "Sydney what the..." Sark started but was stopped as her fist connected with his forehead resounding in a loud crack. The last thing he saw was Sydney standing above him, and then everything faded into darkness.

Sydney wiped the sand off of her self and moved to pick up the gun she had flung onto the sand before tackling him. "Sorry Sark," she said re holstering the gun to her side, "it's nothing personal. Oh wait, yes it is."


	3. Into the Lion's Den

This story is after season three but everyone still works for the CIA and not at APO, just to clear some things up

A sleek, silver Mercedes Benz convertible sped down the nearly empty 101 towards LA, barely staying within the speed limit.

Sydney ran a hand through her hair her other hand gripping the wheel. The sun had just begun to rise and Sydney found herself trying to suppress a large yawn, it had been a long night. She glanced over for a second at the unconscious form of Sark, slouched down in the passenger seat. She was only half concentrating on the road, while trying to think of a sufficient alibi as to why she was bringing the assassin Julian Sark to the CIA without any notice.

Sark stirred in his seat. He opened his eyes slowly only to be met by darkness. He could tell that his hands and legs were bound by the tight, chaffed feeling he felt on his wrists and ankles. He took a deep breath and almost gagged. His nostrils were filled with a rancid smell that he couldn't even place. Then he remembered everything. Sydney had obviously placed a bag over his head. "Damn CIA and their secrecy." He mumbled under his breath.

He tried to sit up but was rewarded for his efforts with a sharp whack to the head. "Stay there!" The agitated voice of Sydney reached Sark's ears. "How conspicuous would it look to someone if they saw a man with a bag over their head?"

"I suppose they might find it a little odd." Sark said. It was an entertaining though. For some reason he didn't feel at all panicked, though he knew he probably should. Jack Bristow was not a very tolerant man. Most feared his interrogations more than death and Sark wasn't exactly on his good side.

"Just stop talking and let me think." Sydney snapped in frustration. As hard as she was racking her brain, she couldn't think of a good enough alibis that would fool her father. "Damn him for being so fucking clever!" She said aloud.

"If you're trying to think up a justification for taking me into custody, you could always say that I attacked out while you were out in public and that you were forced to," here Sark paused and Sydney knew that he trying to suppress a grin underneath the sack, "subdue me." He finally finished. "But you would of course elaborate on the story, for instance, it happened at a grocery store or what have you."

Sydney wanted to feel that Sark was trying to elude her just so that she could yell at him but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with his suggestion. So instead she chose to stare at the road ahead of her silently.

After what seemed like forever the car stopped. Sark listened intently and heard Sydney open the door, get out of the car and then walk around to his side. She opened the door and dragged him out. "A park." She said abruptly.

"What?"

"My father wouldn't believe that you attacked me in the grocery store, the park is a better place."

"Fine, I'm indifferent anyways, either way I'm getting beaten to a bloody pulp and I've resigned myself to that fact."

Sydney dragged him through the parking lot to the elevator. She punched in the code and stood there waiting for the metallic doors to open. She couldn't deny the fact that she was nervous. If her father found out she was lying, then she would have to revert to the truth and tell him everything and that was what she was trying to avoid at all costs.

The doors finally opened. Sydney looked up and was greeted with the sight of four CIA members storming out of the elevator, guns in hand. Three of them grabbed Sark from her and roughly pushed him into the elevator. "Into the lion's den we go." Sydney heard Sark mutter before the doors closed.

The fourth man turned to her. "Sydney, are you ok? Sark didn't hurt you did he?" He asked breathlessly.

"Vaughn," Sydney said slowly, a smile appearing on her face, "I'm fine." Then Vaughn pulled her into a hug.

A few seconds later they pulled away and just stood there, staring at each other. Sydney wasn't sure where she and Vaughn stood. Lauren was gone so they were free to do as they pleased. But something kept holding her back from starting up a relationship with him again.

"So," she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I guess we better go up and see what my father can get out of Sark."

Vaughn nodded and they entered the elevator together.

Even though the jail cell was dark, Sark's eyes still stung a little once the bag came off of his head. He had been thrown into the jail cell and handcuffed to a cement pole, both hands behind him. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions but he by now he was used to the CIA's method. God knows he had been taken in enough times.

The door to his cell opened and he found himself staring at a pair of feet. He didn't feel like he had the strength to look up and it wasn't like it was a surprise as to who it was. "Jack, good to see you again."

He saw the foot start to move but didn't have the strength or space to move so it caught him in the jaw, snapping his neck upward.

As he stared up at the ceiling he felt around his mouth with his tongue hoping that none of his teeth had gotten knocked loose. He could taste the blood on his lips. It had come to be a familiar taste to him, something as normal as peanut butter or ketchup.

The deep, cold, collected voice of Jack Bristow reached his ears. "Tell me who sent you after Sydney, now."

"That's what I like about you Jack; you always just get down right to the point." Sark commented dryly.

The smart remark got him a swift kick to the stomach causing him to get the wind knocked out of him. He leaned over coughing up some blood from his mouth and gasping for breath. "Never a dull moment in your company." He said weakly finally looking up to stare Jack in the eyes.

"I'm not going to ask you again." Jack said coldly. "Who are you working for this time? Why are you after Sydney?"

"So many questions, so little time." Sark could only watch as Jack's curled fist zoomed towards his face. He began hitting Sark with both hands. He felt like a rag doll as his head was flopping helplessly from side to side.

Sydney watched her father beat Sark. It was pretty grotesque and Sydney had seen some pretty awful things her line of work, she wasn't fazed easily. A part of her felt wrong for letting Sark take this awful beating. He hadn't even done anything, this time.

She found herself uttering the words before she could stop herself. "Stop it! Dad, stop!" She yelled.

Her father put down his hands and turned away from the barely conscious Sark to face her. "Sydney, there's no other way to make him talk."

"Give me a couple minutes with him alone and I'll get it out of him." She said slowly.

Vaughn grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "Sydney what are you doing? Let your dad handle this. I don't want you alone with him."

Sydney brushed Vaughn's hands away. "No, I really want to do this." Jack look at his determined daughter in defeat.

"Ok." He said quietly. "Open the door Vaughn."

Vaughn looked from Jack to Sydney, and incredulous look on his face. "Are you both crazy?" He asked in an almost desperate tone. "You know what Sark's capable of; you know what he did to you Sydney, to me, to everyone!" Now he was almost yelling.

"Vaughn please." Sydney pleaded with him. "Just open the door for me."

He gave her the coldest stare she had ever seen and without saying another word opened the door for Sydney. Then he briskly pushed past her and left the cells.

Jack started to follow him, stopping to put a hand on Sydney's shoulder. "Good luck." Then he swiftly made his exit.

Sydney approached Sark's motionless form, shutting the cell door behind her. "Ok Sark, it's just you and me now and I want some answers."


	4. One Big Mistake

Sark remained motionless, causing a slight feeling of worry to come over Sydney. Had her father really hurt him bad? She knelt down in front of Sark and gently lifted his chin upwards supporting his head with a hand against his cheek.

Sark felt like he was swimming in darkness. He could hear Sydney and everything around him perfectly but his vision was dark. Sark all of the sudden felt something warm on his cheek. Slowly he opened his eyes. Sydney's face slowly came into focus. Why was she so beautiful?

With Sark's piercing blue eyes focused on her, Sydney all of the sudden felt a little self conscious. Why she wasn't sure but she could feel her face starting to turn red. She abruptly pulled her hand away and stood up.

"Well Sark, I did you a favor. Why, I don't know so could you just cooperate with me and tell me what you were doing in the desert with MacLean."

Sark sighed, his body ached with intense pain and he wasn't in the mood to answer petty questions. But as he looked up at Sydney, her expression blank and unmoving, he knew he had to comply. "Well, if you must know, I had been doing a bit of work for MacLean. Nothing big though, just small jobs, though he did have a bigger project going on." Here he paused.

At the mention of MacLean's other project Sydney shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Anyone else would have dismissed the movement but Sark new better. A smirk spread across his bloody lip. "So, what were you doing in the desert?"

Sydney shifted her body again, though her face remained unreadable. "This isn't about me Sark. I'm not the one who's in CIA custody and being interrogated, so just continue with the story ok?"

"MacLean, as I'm sure you know, is quite a bastard. And quite frankly I got sick of his attitude. I was going to abandon him and tell one of my other…associates about him for a big payoff. That was when he knocked me out in LA and I woke up in the desert, end of story."

"Fine, then this interrogation is over." Sydney said. She turned to leave, opening the door to the cell.

"You know what MacLean was doing, don't you?" Sark said suddenly. "That's why you were there, in the desert."

Sydney kept on walking. Sark was too smart for his own good.

She made her way to her father's office, taking a seat in one of the seats. He was talking on the phone and he nodded to her while writing something down on a piece of paper.

A few minutes passed and Jack hung up the phone, turning to her daughter. "Did you find anything out?"

"Sark wasn't after me." She said simply.

"Are you sure? Then what was he doing in the park?"

Sydney was at that moment wishing she had put more thought into her story because at that moment the park was sounding ridiculous. "Well…"

"You know what, never mind. I don't have time to deal with this. If you think that he's innocent, then we can keep it at that. Dixon's called a meeting ASAP."

With that Jack stood up and started to walk towards the meeting room. Sydney fell instep behind him.

She took her seat in between her father and Vaughn, who glanced at her for a moment then turned away. She turned her attention to Dixon.

Director Marcus Dixon stood at the head of the room, looking a little flustered but as usual his tone of voice came out strong and clear. "Alright everyone, I've called this meeting because a new piece of information concerning Rambaldi and his artifacts has come up. Just this morning I received intel that Scottish mob boss Travis MacLean turned up dead in the Mojave Desert.

At this Sydney gulped.

I found out that MacLean's secret employer had been paying him to do serious excavation work in the Sahara Desert. What this means I'm not sure but there is major evidence that suggests that there is yet another Rambaldi artifact to be found there.

At this everyone in the board room stirred. That is, everyone except Sydney.

"I've decided to dispatch a team but the trip will be a little bit complicated. Nothing can look out of the ordinary since the anonymous backer to MacLean could be anyone. Sydney, I've decided that you will be going but I'm not sure who to pair you with."

"Sark told me that he worked for MacLean previously." Sydney said subconsciously.

"And Sark was cleared from any suspicions correct?"

Sydney nodded wishing she hadn't mentioned it. She had a bad feeling of what was coming next.

"Then Sark should accompany Sydney. He owes the CIA a favor and with Sydney with him at all times I do not think he could possibly get away.

Sydney couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sark was going with her? She was going to have to be constantly watching him, great, just great. This was going to be one hell of a trip.


	5. Bloody Unfucking Believable

Bloody un-fucking believable. That was the only term Sark could find to define the last couple hours. He had come to the conclusion that the CIA was starking mad.

One minute he was being beaten to a bloody pulp for something he hadn't even done, the next he was being included in some high class mission that involves Rambaldi, a CIA favorite, he had noticed.

Ah yes, he would try to keep it all fresh in his mind so he could write it down, it was so laughable. Jack Bristow and Director Dixon coming into his cell, uncuffing him and humbly apologizing. Then the Director offering him an easy out from CIA custody by just "helping out" with a mission.

Sark had of course said yes. It wasn't like he had made any other plans. For a bleak moment it had looked like he was going to die, so right now anything looked good.

And here he was now sitting on a comfortable bed in a very nice hotel, free of charge. Of course there were watchmen posted everywhere so he wouldn't escape but somehow not even that dampened his mood.

The director said that he, Sydney and Sydney's boy toy, Vaughn, were going to come to the hotel at 6:00 and discuss the details of the mission.

Sark glanced at the clock, it read 5:17. He had only been in the hotel room for five minutes or so and was still in his bloodied clothes from the previous night.

Stripping off his clothes Sark walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Once he got in he poured out a little shampoo and began massaging his aching head. The warm water felt relaxing on his skin and Sark felt like he could stay there forever.

Twenty minutes later Sark emerged from the bathroom, clean and bandaged. He pulled on the pair of jeans he had been given and was just about to put on the shirt when there was a knock at the door.

Sark walked towards the door putting on the button down shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. When he opened the door a slight smile spread across his face.

Sydney just stared at Sark, taking in his lean, muscular form. Every muscle in his body seemed to be toned to perfection and the accents of the muscles on his body suited him nicely. Wait...had she just been thinking about Sark's hot body? What was wrong with her? She had a boyfriend…sort of, what was Vaughn to her now anyways?

As all these thoughts raced through her head, Sark just stood in the door grinning. "Why are you so smug?" She finally managed to say.

"I think I have the right." He said stepping aside so that she could enter the hotel room. He shut the door to the hotel room and slowly followed her to the main part of the room, buttoning his shirt up loosely as he went. "You have to admit that things didn't turn out to shabby for me."

"Whatever Sark." Sydney was still pissed off at herself for getting Sark involved. "Just so you know I'm only here early because my dad wanted me to come at check up on you."

"That's just fine with me." Sark moved to the large glass window that overlooked downtown LA. He just stood there, hand pressed up against the glass, watching the sun slowly sink.

Sydney studied his profile as Sark stood there. She hadn't really ever seen him in normal clothes; he was usually wearing one of his many black casual suits. She decided that she liked him better in normal clothes, it made him seem more humane. Why was she thinking of him again? What was wrong with her?

Sydney quickly turned away. Sark noticing her sudden movements turned to her. He was about to ask her what was up, when there came another knock at the door.

Sydney briskly walked to the door and opened it. She found a group of people in front of her. Her father, Marshall, Dixon and a sulky Vaughn all stood there and the smell of food wafted into the room.

Sark watched Sydney move aside from the door as a parade of people entered, quickly filling up the small hotel room. He could smell food and his stomach gave a loud grumble. He hadn't eaten in a while.

"Alright people, we don't have a lot of time to go through this so I want to do it quick and efficient." Jack's sharp tone cut through the silence like a sharp knife. I suggest we continue this conversation in one of the private conference rooms at the hotel. Everyone nodded and so the great procession began.

Sark rolled his eyes as he was pushed between Director Dixon and Vaughn. They still didn't trust him not to run and it was starting to annoy him thoroughly.

Once the party reached the board room, seats were quickly taken and all attention focused on Dixon.

"Ok so here does how this is gonna go down. Sydney, you and Sark are going to be flown from LA to Algeciras, Spain. From there, you will cross the Straight of Gibraltar to Morocco via a contact by the name of Emanuel Vargas. You will be told how to reach all of your contacts aboard the plane. From the boat you will find a Green Jeep Wrangler which you will take to Algiers, Algeria. Your next instructions will be given to you at the Sofitel Alger Hotel. Check in under the name LaShapier."

"Your plane leaves in roughly a half an hour, so that will be all for time's sake." Jack added briskly. "Sark, clothes have been provided for you." With that Jack nodded to Vaughn who placed a suitcase in front of Sark.

"Alright you two, Marshall will accompany you both on the plane to Algeciras and get you acquainted with some of the gadgets he as put together. Now get going."

Both Sydney and Sark found themselves ushered down to the front of a hotel where a black SUV was parked. They were pushed into the car along with Marshall.

Jack held back Sydney for a moment. "Good luck Sydney."

Sydney smiled. "Thanks Dad." She said, shutting the door to the car.

Sark leaned back in his seat. It was all very hard to process. This was going to be one crazy trip, he could tell.


	6. A Leap of Faith

Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me so long you guys! I've just been really swamped doing other things. Hope you like it! R&R

Sark had to admit that the private jet the CIA had set up for himself and Sydney to be transported in was quite impressive. However it wasn't like the luxury was new to him, since he practically demanded it on most jobs that he did.

He sat in his seat half listening to the jet roar beneath his feet, half listening to the earphone he had in his left ear connected to his I-pod. Through his sunglasses everything was tinted in a hue of green. He had sprawled himself lazily across both seats, his head supported by the window, his feet sticking obnoxiously out into the aisle.

As guitar rifts from Jimmy Hendrix blasted from his I-pod, Sark concentrated on Sydney who was in a pair of seats diagonal to him. She sat straight up in her seat, head resting on the seat though tilted slightly so she could look out the window.

He couldn't help but admire her. She looked so perfect sitting right there, her silky brown hair settled gracefully around her shoulders. Sark hadn't had much time to just think about her since everything had happened so fast. Sure he felt something for her but he pushed the thought back into his head, dismissing it as the normal reaction that any red-blooded chap would have.

Sydney sighed, blowing a stray strand of chestnut brown hair out of her face. She had too much time to think on trips like this, maybe that was why she hated them so much.

For a second she glanced back and found Sark staring at her. She turned fully and looked at him expecting him to turn his head away like any normal man would. Instead he kept on staring at her, fiery blue eyes burning into hers and a small smile curving his lips. "You have no shame do you?" She called.

"No, especially not when your lovely person is involved Ms. Bristow." He retorted his grin widening. "So how's Vaughn doing as of late?" He asked. There was something within him that just wanted to agitate her. Sark felt like he was in the 3rd grade again, pulling at a girl's pigtails so that she would notice him.

"You're a pompous ass." Sydney said and turned around in her chair.

"So they say." He called back and turned his head away from her.

"Alright kids, enough's enough, can't we all just get along?" Marshall said as he walked over to them both. Both Sydney and Sark stared at him as he laughed as his own joke.

Sydney couldn't help but smile, while Sark adapted a look of distaste upon his features.

"Ok, all joking aside you guys, come up to the front of the jet, I have some good equipment that I want to just walk you through." Marshall began walking back to the front of the plane as did Sydney. Reluctantly Sark set down his I-pod and lifted himself out of his seat, falling in step behind Sydney.

Sark walked up to the front of the plane planting himself next to where Sydney had stopped. In front of them were a wide variety of weapons and equipment.

"Alright now in front of me here…" Sark barely listened as Marshall described in depth all of the gadgets and what not that lay before them. He was very capable of figuring all of that crap out by himself.

It was probably about twenty minutes later when Marshall finished. "And that's about all you guys need to know. I'm not sure exactly when you'll be landing but I think it's soon."

Sydney smiled warmly at him. "Thanks a lot Marshall, I really appreciate it."

Marshall smiled back in the quirky way that he always did. "No problem Syd." He said before taking his seat.

Sark made his way back to his seat, collapsing into it. "_What a bloody waste of time." _He thought to himself. "Well that was a twenty minutes I'll never get back." He said in frustration.

The way Sydney whipped around in her seat was enough to almost startle him, almost. "Sark shut the hell up before I make you shut the hell up! Unlike you, Marshall was being helpful. Of course what would you know about being helpful, anything that doesn't benefit you is a waste of time! God, you're so self absorbed it makes me sick!"

Sark hadn't been reprimanded at like that since he was at least five years old and he wasn't going to start letting people, especially her, do it now. Standing up he opened his mouth, a slew of smart ass comebacks ready for fire.

That's when the jet lurched sideways. Sark went flying over to the other side of the plane, smacking into the opposite wall. Picking himself up he could feel blood gushing from his mouth. "Again?" He was starting to get sick of having a swollen lip every five seconds.

The plane began to drop at a rapid speed, violently swerving left and right. Sark looked up just in time to notice Sydney's unconscious form slipping to the ground. In the blink of an eye he had leaped over the seats in front of him and caught her.

Holding Sydney tightly in his arms, Sark looked for a way to get out. It was obvious that the jet was going down and Sark wasn't going down with it. He had gone too far to have it all end like this.

Rushing over to an emergency exit he pulled it open. The ground was rapidly rushing up to meet them, just trying to look out the door at the speed they were falling was making Sark's eyes water.

Sydney stirred in his arms. "Sark what…" Her eyes fluttered open.

"Sydney, wait here." Sark set her down and rushed to the back of the jet. He rummaged around the storage compartments. "Damn it, where are the bloody escape parachutes?" He cried in exasperation. After doing some more digging he found one. He rushed back to where he had left Sydney. By this time she had fully awoken and was eagerly awaiting him. "Here!" He called tossing the parachute to her.

"Come on!" She called. Sark started towards her but stopped. He could just make out Marshall's feet sticking out into the aisle. "Bloody hell!" He started towards Marshall leaving Sydney. "Go without me!" He called as he rushed towards Marshall.

Sark got to Marshall. He was unconscious though there was no sign of any bleeding. Sark sighed picking him up and hoisting him over his shoulder fireman style. He wasn't fond of the guy but he wasn't about to just leave him there, he wasn't that heartless.

He pushed past the curtain to the front of the plane where the pilot would be. Unsurprisingly, the pilot's seat was empty. "Can't find a decent person to do anything anymore." Sark muttered rushing back to the emergency exit.

There was no sign of Sydney. Sark then realized that he would have to free fall with Marshall in his arms since there were no other parachutes. "Wonderful."

Sark shut his eyes momentarily, trying to prep himself. He had to time it exactly right otherwise both himself and Marshall would go plummeting to their deaths or break countless bones due to the landing.

"You can do this mate." He told himself. It was ironic; this really was a leap of faith. "Here goes nothing." Sark ran forward, launching himself out of the plane hoping that his jump was far enough.

It was all to fast for him to truly recall but all of the sudden he was hitting the ground, Marshall on top of him and everything went black.

"Sark, Sark, wake up!" A voice called to him in his darkness waking him up abruptly.

Sark opened his eyes and found himself staring into a pair of beautiful large brown eyes. "Sydney, is he, is Marshall ok?" He asked gasping at the pain he felt in his chest when he sat up.

"I don't know. He still hasn't woken up." Sydney said a tone of sadness in her voice.

Sark looked around him. They were lying in a field of golden wheat. The rapidly sinking sun slightly illuminated the wilderness about them. The wreckage of the plane lay roughly fifty feet away. "Do you know where we are?" He questioned, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"I have no idea but we need to get Marshall medical care and also get in touch with Dixon and my father. Do you know if the pilot was still in the plane when it went down?"

"I'm pretty sure the pilot's the fuck who got us into this mess in the first place. When I went up to the cock pit, he was no where in sight. He probably jumped a long time before the jet started to go down, the son of a bitch."

"What do you think is our next immediate move?" Sydney asked.

"Rest up. Tomorrow's gonna be one hell of a day."


	7. Acting on Impulse

Enjoy and review!

The rapidly approaching dawn cast a strange, hazy feeling over the vast golden field. In the rays of the rising sun, the ocean could be seen in the far off distance, its sapphire water sparkling miraculously.

Sydney sighed sitting up. She hadn't been able to sleep all last night. A combination of thoughts had managed to over power her will to sleep and she just couldn't seem to loose them.

She glanced over at Sark's sleeping form, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Just looking at him gave her an overwhelming feeling of shame in the pit of her stomach. When she looked at him or at Marshall or even the plane crash it reminded her that Sark had been the one to save Marshall. Sark and not her. It was her who had jumped to safety only thinking about herself while he went and saved people. Then Sydney flashed back to right before the crash.

_"Of course what would you know about being helpful, anything that doesn't benefit you is a waste of time! God, you're so self absorbed it makes me sick!"_

Just thinking about what she had said made her cringe. She was the selfish one. Her, Sydney Bristow, top CIA agent had only been thinking about herself. It was enough to make her physically sick.

Beside her Sark finally stirred. His eyes opened and he looked at Sydney. Slowly the blue orbs seemed to focus. He sat up rubbing his head. He winced at the pain he felt all over his body. "Not as comfortable as I would have liked it." He said smiling at Sydney.

The smile disappeared when he noticed Sydney's sad disposition. She looked pretty bad, dark circles rimming the bottoms of her eye lids. "Did you get any sleep last night?" He asked, trying but failing to mask his concern.

She shook her head. "I think the first thing we should do is check out the crash for any useful supplies. I've been checking Marshall's breathing and pulse every couple hours and for right now he's stable but we should try to find something for him."

Sark nodded. Sydney turned away to check Marshall again. Quickly Sark turned away and unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt.

He had noticed that blood was seeping through his shirt as Sydney had been talking to him and it was bothering him.

"Bloody hell." He harshly whispered as he looked down at the uncovered part of his skin. Lodged into the left side of his stomach was a piece of metal, most likely from the jet. It had been lodged in far enough that it hadn't bled while he was sleeping but now that it was moving it was dislodging causing it to bleed.

Sark was surprised that he hadn't noticed it last night. It was one of those rare occasions for him that Sark was confused. He didn't want to remove it because it would start to bleed heavily but leaving it in could have serious repercussions as well.

"So what are we waiting for? Let's check out the wreckage." He said, cupping a hand to the wound and turning around. "Don't want to let the day pass a by."

Sydney nodded. Sark noticed that she seemed to be off in her own world. He silently celebrated his good fortune.

The wreckage was nothing short of depressing. At first glance it was only a smoldering pile crap. But as Sark and Sydney found, if one looked hard enough, there were still things of use. For instance Sark found a medical kit while searching the front of the plane. Hastily he pulled out numerous patches of gauze and laid them out beside him. Lifting his shirt he braced himself as he ripped out the metal. "Fuck!" He cried loudly.

Sydney lifted her head. She had been at the back of the plane. "Sark you ok?"

"Fucking peachy!" He yelled back. "Nicked my leg on something but I'm fine." Sark turned back to what he was doing. Quickly he placed several layers of gauze over the wound, ripped a piece of bandaging tape off and covered the gauze thoroughly in tape.

Once he had put everything back in the medical kit he inspected his job. It wasn't perfect but it would hold for now. "Sydney, I found a medical kit!" He yelled making sure the bandage was securely hidden before turned and walking back to where she was.

"Good, we'll need it." Sydney took the kit from Sark's outstretched hand and turned, continuing to search.

Dusk arrived, finding Sydney and Sark trudging back to their makeshift camp. The finds hadn't been great but they would do for now. Their findings consist of the medical kid, a couple bottles of water, a few bags of nuts and two semi-automatic hand guns.

Sark felt a little bit better with a gun. He gripped it reassuringly. Looking over Sark smiled to see that Sydney was handling the gun the exact same way. "Feels like home doesn't it?"

Sydney looked at him in what he supposed was a glare but she was half smiling. All of the sudden her expression changed. "Sark what happened to you?" Sark realized that she had finally noticed his blood shirt.

"Oh this?" He said flattening out the shirt to get a better look at the blood stain. "This is nothing. Just a mere scratch really." But Sydney had already walked over to him and was examining the shirt more closely. She pushed lightly on the stain causing Sark to double over in pain. He stood back up managing a smile but he knew there was no use fighting with her now.

"Sark take off your shirt." She said.

Sark couldn't resist. "I know you want me in your pants but please restrain yourself, it's embarrassing really."

"I'm serious Sark do it."

Reluctantly Sark unbuttoned the shirt and shrugged it off. Blood had soaked through the bandages and was now starting to ooze down his stomach. "Really puts you in the mood, doesn't it?" He said trying to smile, though it came out as more of a grimace.

"Shut up and come here." Sark let Sydney lead him a little ways from the campsite. She sat him down and opened up the medical kit. "I think you need stitches." She pulled out a needle.

"Don't think for a second I'm going to let you come near me with that thing." Sark said inching away slowly."

"Don't be stupid come here." Sydney pulled Sark closer to her and carefully removed the bandages. He shut his eyes as he felt the needle enter his skin.

In roughly a half an hour she was finished. "Alright, you're good as new. See that wasn't so bad?"

Sark slowly opened his eyes. "I nearly died thanks. No offense but you're not exactly a doctor." She handed him a painkiller which he swallowed immediately.

"It worked ok? I was just as good as a doctor."

Sark smiled. "Whatever you say Dr. Bristow, whatever you say." Sark watched as the wind ruffled Sydney's hair, blowing it all about her face. He gazed into her deep brown eyes unabashedly.

With one had he reached out, brushing the loose strands out of her face. Sydney stared back at him, her gaze determined but he could see her face was a little flushed.

Slowly Sark moved his face closer to hers. They were inches away from each other. He could feel the heat radiating off of her body. Maybe it was the painkiller that made him act so bold or maybe it was just the right timing Sark didn't know. But he found himself leaning into Sydney and capturing her lips in a kiss.


	8. Well I'll be Damned

Sydney's heart was racing. As her lips touched Sark's the sensation she felt was so overwhelming she didn't know what to do. Half of herself was telling her that she needed to stop and that nothing good could come of it while the other half was lost in Sark's lips.

Surprisingly it was Sark who pulled away from her. Sydney searched his brilliant blue eyes as they both sat in silence, breathing heavily. It was strange. For the first time Sydney could truly look at Sark. There was nothing cocky in his features, no sarcasm to hide behind; there was just him and his own raw emotion.

Finally he cleared his throat. "Anyways," he said standing up and stretching. "Thank you for the stitches. We should probably get some rest. Tomorrow I want to head out and try to find a main road."

Sydney nodded standing up as well. She hid the expression of total confusion from her face. Typical Sark. Typical men. When things like this happened they were always determined to avoid it instead of confront it.

They both lay down, pretending to sleep, though sleep was the farthest thing from either of their minds.

The next morning brought what Sark hoped was clarity. He and Sydney set about packing things up, neither initiating conversation. He told himself over and over that the kiss happened only because he took the painkiller and that Sydney only kissed him back because…well he hadn't quite figured that part out yet.

There wasn't much to pack and the only thing of any real difficult to carry was Marshall, of whom Sark graciously volunteered the heavy burden of carrying.

Though he hadn't yet awoken, Sydney said his vitals seemed in tact. Sark worried anyways, though he wasn't sure why.

"Well that's everything. Guess we can head out. Where do you think we should go?" Sark said, trying to instigate casual conversation.

"Well," Sydney started pausing in thought. "It would be a waste of time to head towards the ocean, seeing as we have no way of crossing. Our best bet would be to get closer to the Ocean and walk along side it as villages liter the shore."

"It's a plan then." Sark shifted Marshall's weight on his shoulders. "Let's go." And with that they began.

Though the weather wasn't all too hot, the sun beat heavily down upon their backs and with all that they were carrying both soon were covered in sweat. Sark carried Marshall without complaint, though Sydney could tell that he was beginning to have a difficult time.

By mid-day they had gotten well out of view of the plane crash. "It shouldn't be too long now." Sark said, gently setting Marshall down against a rock. Sydney handed him a canteen of water which he readily drank. "Thanks."

There eyes met briefly both, quickly turning away and blushing. As Sark turned, he noticed a cloud of dust in the distance that seemed to be rapidly approaching. "Sydney look, a car!" He pointed in the direction of the cloud of dust.

Sydney looked. She could just make a green jeep wrangler, making its way across the ground. "It's coming this way." Sark said, calmly unlocking the safety on his gun and concealing it under his shirt. "Get ready."

Sydney followed Sark's example, unlocking the safety on her own gun. In no time at all the jeep was stopping feet away from where Sark and Sydney stood. Two burly men got out of the car, guns in hand.

"Hola Senors." Sark greeted. The men responded by cocking their guns and firing. Dropping to the ground, Sark watched as Sydney easily took them both out. A third man emerged from the jeep. Whipping out his gun, Sark took aim and fired, taking the man down in one shot.

Both of them stood up cautiously. Sark ran over to the vehicle and checked it out. Everything was clear. Sydney dropped all of the men's guns into the back seat, handing Sark one and taking one herself. "I say we take the car." She said, turning to him.

"I concur, but I'm driving." He walked towards Marshall.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Sydney pulled open the car doors and reached for the keys that would have been in the ignition but they weren't there. A jingling sound reached her ears and she whipped around.

Sark stood there, Marshall hoisted up over his shoulder, smirking, shaking the keys in his hand. "Looking for these?"

"Bastard." Sydney said, suppressing her own grin. Begrudgingly she got in the passenger's seat while Sark laid, Marshall out in the back seat.

Jumping into the driver's seat and slamming the door, Sark eagerly put the keys into the ignition. "Let's see what it can do."

Revving up the car, Sark turned the Jeep around to the direction it had just come and started off.

He kept the car at an almost dangerously fast pace and Sydney found herself thoroughly enjoying the ride. Closing her eyes, she savored the wind blowing through her hair.

Sark couldn't help but take glances at Sydney as dangerous as it was. It made him smile, seeing her at such peace despite their circumstances.

They hadn't been driving for another hour when Sark slowed down the car. Sydney looked at him. "What's wrong?" She questioned.

Sark smiled, cocking his head to the side. Sydney looked out his side of the car and read a crudely made sign. "Algeciars 15 k." She looked at Sark smiling as well. "Well I'll be damned."


	9. The Games we Play

**Author's Note: Sorry the last chapter was so short guys! I'm glad you liked it though. Here's another, enjoy!**

As Sydney and Sark drove through the city they reveled in all of its hustle and bustle. Neither had spent extensive time in Spain and Sark had never traveled to the Coast so it was interesting for both of them.

Their first act of business was taking Marshall to the Punta Europa hospital to take care of him.

After handing Marshall over to the medics, both Sydney and Sark waited for his results to come. Sydney was surprised as to how unrest less Sark was about the whole thing. Though she herself was going crazy with worry and anticipation, she wouldn't have expected the same behavior from him.

Sark paced the halls of the hospital outside of Marshall's room. His bottom lip was curled under his teeth, which Sydney had discovered was the only true sign of worry ever showed. "How bloody long is this going to take? I think I'm going insane." He said finally sitting down next to Sydney.

"I'm worried too." She said quietly. Their eyes locked, fiery blue on soft brown. Before Sydney knew what she was doing, she had reached over and took Sark's hand in her own, comfortingly.

Sark flinched slightly but didn't with draw the hand. He didn't want to look away from Sydney, didn't want to stop what was starting to happen between them even though it was a bad idea through and through.

"Senorita Bristow." The voice of the doctor treating Marshall shook both of them back to reality. Sydney pulled her hand free of Sark's and stood up.

Sark watched her go, mentally slapping himself in the face_. What the fuck am I doing? I've got to stop letting her get the best of me. _

Sydney turned back to him, her face the picture of relief. "He's ok then?" Sark asked, wanting to feel reassurance for at least one thing in his life.

Sydney nodded. "He's stable and the doctor's said he'll be fine." Her smile was wide as she said it.

"You should probably call you father and inform him of everything so that they can transfer Marshall to secure CIA treatment."

Sydney's smiled lessened. "My father, CIA, right." She turned away. It was like everything normal in her life had fallen away in the past couple of days leaving only her and Sark.

Walking to a pay phone, she picked it up but hesitated before dialing. Taking a deep breath she pressed in her division code. "Hello? This is Mountaineer, request to speak to Jack Bristow." She said finally after finishing the numerous CIA phone codes.

"Transferring to Jack Bristow's private line, please hold." Sydney waited patiently not sure of what was to come.

"Sydney? Sydney where are you?" Her father's voice sounded worried and urgent.

"Dad," she said finally, "I'm fine. Our plane crashed, the pilot double crossed us and jumped out. Sark and I are both unharmed. Marshall…" She paused for a moment.

"Marshall what?" Jack asked impatiently.

"Marshall was knocked unconscious from the plane crash. We're at the hospital right now and they're treating him..."

"What! What hospital? How could you let this happen?" Jack's voice was brimming with rage.

"I don't know." Sydney said, her voice cracking with shame. "I didn't mean for it to happen."

"I'll deal with you later Sydney, we have to get Marshall into CIA care. Where are you now?"

"Punta Europe Hospital but dad…." The line disconnected cutting her off.

Sydney hung up the phone, taking a deep breath. A feeling of immense shame hung over her. It was the type of shame that only her father could inflict with his harsh words and had been doing so for as long as she could remember.

Slowly she turned away from the pay phone and back to Marshall's room. As she approached the room she heard voices. Standing next to the doorway she realized it was just Sark talking and that made her stop.

Sark was pacing the room back and forth as he talked to the still unconscious Marshall. If it had been anyone else besides Sark, Sydney would have found it endearing.

"I mean it's not like I really didn't like your or anything mate, you know? It was just, it was just, ah I don't know. Just me being an ass I guess. I mean you've got to wake up Marshall. You got too much going for you not to.

Running a hand through his hair, Sark stopped in front of Marshall's bed. "As I gather it, you've got a wife and a kid at home right? I mean, if you ask me, that's just about all a man really needs isn't it? I mean, living the bachelor's life is fine and at first glance you'd think that out of the both of us, I've got the better deal. But the way I see it, you've definitely gotten the upper hand. I can't even remember the last time I felt close enough to a woman to want to marry her and settle down with her, maybe I never have.

Sark trailed off as his mind drifted to thoughts of the kiss between him and Sydney, resting his hand against Marshall's bed.

"I've heard that really works sometimes."

Sydney's voice jolted Sark back to reality, thoughts of Sydney vanishing like smoke. "What works?"

"Talking to someone unconscious." Sydney stepped into the room and walked over to Sark, standing next to him. "Sorry I couldn't help but overhear." There was an apologetic smile on her face but Sark detected amusement in it as well so he turned away, trying to mask his embarrassment.

"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat, moving to stand next to the door. "I think we should fine a place to stay the night now that we know Marshall will be in CIA care. We can leave a note with the hospital so that they'll know where to contact us."

"Alright, but I get to drive." Sydney said, passing him at the door.

Sark watched her for a moment as she marched down the hall. "Not a bloody chance in hell." He jogged to catch up with her, already at the exit.

They walked the parking lot in silence. As they reached the jeep, Sydney turned to Sark. In a sudden movement she had pushed him up against the side of the jeep, pressing there bodies together sensually.

There eyes locked. His cool blue eyes searched her brown ones. Without thinking he let her pull him closer, locking there lips in a passionate kiss. As Sydney slid her tongue into his mouth, Sark felt his brain becoming intoxicated by her. He let his hands entangle themselves in her soft hair.

But as soon as the kiss had started, it ended. Sydney slipped out of his arms. Sark turned to look at her, his head still spinning from the kiss. He focused on Sydney, a wide grin spread across her face as she dangled a set of keys in front of his face.

Frantically, Sark reached into his back pocket and unsurprisingly found the keys to the jeep gone. "Damn." He said, looking back at Sydney, who was now climbing into the driver's seat of the jeep.

He had let his guard down because of her again. It was getting to be more than a little pathetic and Sark knew it. As he walked to the passenger seat of the jeep he touched his bruised lips and couldn't help but smile. "Oh the games we play."

She wanted to play games. He'd give her games. Launching himself into the passenger seat, Sark slammed the door hard behind him, still smiling.


	10. Old Company, New Situations

**Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, chapter 10!**

The seedy motel they found to stay in was about the farthest thing from the Hilton Sark had ever seen but it would serve its place.

Sark flopped onto the bed the second they got into their room. Another second later he sat up, looking at Sydney, only to find her frowning. "What's…?" And then he realized. There was only one bed in the room. _"Shit."_

Deciding to ignore the issue in that very moment, Sark stood up and walked over to the window, pulling back the shade and opening it. The cool night breeze, accompanied by the smell of the sea immediately greeted his senses.

Pulling the window all the way up, Sark pushed his whole upper body out of the window, supporting himself with his arms for balance. The stars were amazing. Sark found it amusing how he really only appreciated simple things like stars every once in a while but when he did it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"If you stick yourself any farther out that window you'll fall out…But now that I think I about it I don't really care." Sydney's voice sounded far away from outside the window and Sark decided to ignore it. He pushed himself out the window all the way, balancing his feet on the thin ledge. "Sark what are you doing!" Her voice sounded more urgent now and it made Sark smile maliciously.

"As touched as I am that you want to be a motherly figure towards me, I think I'll have to pass. It just doesn't suit you." Sark called. He found a good hold and pulled himself up to the next window sill with ease. Repeating this he soon found himself on the roof of the motel, the stars stretching out before him in an endless expanse of sky.

Looking down he noticed Sydney's brown head of hair sticking out of the window. "You've got to be the stupidest son of a bitch alive!" She hollered at him angrily.

Sark responded by turning away from the edge of the building and walking slowly to the center of the roof. In a swift motion he had lain himself against the hard surface. Resting his hands gently behind his head, Sark inhaled the fresh air deeply closing his eyes momentarily.

It seemed like ages before he opened his eyes again and only because he heard soft scraping noises. Turning his head slightly he watched Sydney pulled herself up onto the roof. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Fancy meeting you here."

Sydney rolled her eyes at him but sat down none the less. "You're absolutely out of your mind. You could get us kicked out of the motel for this."

"Well, well, well, Ms. Bristow, I never got the impression that you were such a goody-goody. Of course you're always threatening to blow my brains out whenever we're together… I'd also like to point out that you're up here too so if we do get kicked out it's not entirely my fault."

"Somebody has to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't kill anyone. And the sad part is that I mean that literally."

Sark sat up turning to face her. He waited until her deep brown eyes locked with his own blue ones letting her fall deeper and deeper into them. "Sydney…"

Sydney couldn't help but play right into Sark's fiery blue eyes and low, husky tone. She found herself leaning into him. The sound of a helicopter whirred above them, the only thing that kept her aware of the real world.

Sark had her right where he wanted her, eating out of the palm of his hand, memorized by his voice. It would be the perfect revenge for her earlier stunt, the perfect jab at her pride. Now if only he could make himself pull away.

They stayed that way, inches apart. It was a fierce battle for both a battle between attraction and common sense. Neither was about to lose by moving forward or pulling away.

However, the moment didn't last long as seconds later gunfire rained down upon them.

The shots rang out in the night air as Sark and Sydney sprinted behind an air duct for cover. Sark peeked around the corner, noting the helicopter hovering not twenty feet above them. _I'm so stupid… _Sark kicked himself yet again for letting Sydney interfere with the job at hand.

"Every fucking time." He said aloud, pulling out the gun tucked into his pants.

Sydney gave him a cynical look. "You know, I'm really not as surprised as I should be by this." She nodded to the gun. "When did you get it?"

"Not that this isn't important but seriously, I think our problems at hand are a little bit more important than where I got some little gun." Sark turned around the corner again, shooting at the copter.

Ropes descended from the copter and figures in black slid down the ropes , guns in hand, shooting unmercifully. Sark tried desperately to hit each of them but the gunfire was to heavy to get a definite hit.

The figures hit the ground, ambushing them both from all sides. Sark stepped in front of Sydney, shielding his body, but was knocked aside, falling hard to the ground and temporarily blacking out.

Sark came to moments later, just in time to see an unconscious Sydney being dragged up the helicopter ladder.

Pulling himself up off the ground, Sark began running towards the loose ladder that hung down from the Copter. Pushing his gun into his jeans, Sark braced himself to jump onto the ladder as he neared the end of the building.

He launched himself off of the edge of the building and momentarily flew through the air, outstretching his hands to the last rung of the ladder as it strayed farther and farther away.

In that moment Sark felt his whole life flash before him. It could all end right there in Spain. His thoughts fell away right as his bare hands came in contact with the cold metal of the rope ladder.

Pulling himself up, Sark climbed the ladder with a passionate ferocity. He reached the bottom of the copter and threw himself inside just as the ladder was cut off.

_Why was that so bloody easy?_ Sark wondered as he crawled on his hand and knees around the back of the copter, littered with crates and boxes.

Then he saw the reason for the ease of getting aboard the copter. Sydney was awake and pissed off as hell. All three men that had ambushed then were trying to hold her down as she struggled beneath them.

Sark suppressed a smile as he watched Sydney kick, bite and scrape her way through all three of the men.

Then there was a loud bang. Sark ducked to the ground, as a bullet just grazed his left ear. Silently he snuck back into the darkness of the crates and watched as figure appeared before Sydney and all of the other men.

"Lassie, I'm not in the mood to fuck around now. So just work with me alright?" Sydney gave him a glaring stare. "And if you don't well…I'm not authorized to kill you but I could definitely shoot your fingers off. Yeah, that's within jurisdiction."

The Scottish drawl was unmistakable to Sark. _Travis McLean, you son of a bitch._


	11. Compound X

**Here's chapter 11! I tried to make it longer for everybody, have fun!**

Sark suppressed yet another yawn, probably his fiftieth. He had stopped counting at twenty-seven.

The constant hum of the helicopter had become irritating and he found himself wishing more and more that he had listened to reason for once in his life and never climbed up to that rooftop.

But there he was, stuck in a helicopter with one of his deadliest enemies, of whom had his partner hostage. He glanced at his watch. Seven hours later and the copter still hadn't shown any sign of landing.

Sark was not what you would call an impatient person. He couldn't afford to be, what with his painstaking profession. But after the past couple of days, having not gotten a good hour of sleep…well…it was really starting to get to him. McLean hadn't hurt Sydney but he had taken her up to the front of the copter where Sark couldn't see either of them which made him uneasy.

"_Julian, you can only ever depend upon what you can see. Remember that."_ The thought floated so easily through his head that Sark didn't even register it at first. But that voice, that voice that was drained of any human compassion, that voice that he loathed more than any other, that voice could not go unnoticed.

Sark shook his head vigorously. It worried him how something he had taken such extreme measures to suppress, could return so easily. The last thing he needed right then was to re-visit any of his past, his dark memories.

"How fuckin'long is this fucking ride gonna fuckin' take!" McLean's angry voice roared.

"Please sir, we'll be landing in a couple of minutes. Just wait a little longer."

Sark breathed a sigh of relief. This trip hadn't been doing wonders for him either and getting out to take in some fresh air would probably do him a hell of a lot of good. He expertly stretched his muscles, waking them up.

As the copter descended, Sark mentally ran through the plan he had formed around hour two of the trip. Basically he was going to rely solely on his skill in stealth and of course his gun. Somehow he would get Sydney out.

It wasn't so much a plan as it was an idea posing as a plan to make himself feel more secure.

The copter landed smoothly or as smoothly as that sort of machine can. Sark sunk deeper into the shadows of the back of the craft as he watched the four men get off the copter, dragging Sydney between them. She looked ok…or at least he hoped she was ok.

Before the last man could get out, Sark had grabbed him from behind, swiftly knocking him out with a smooth punch to the neck. Quickly donning the man's clothing which consisted of camouflage pants, shirt and hood to shield the nose and mouth from the sand, he rushed to meet up with the other men.

"McEvans what took you so long?" MacLean asked rounding on him from the front of the pack

Feeling quite thankful for the hood, Sark cleared his throat making sure to cast his eyes downward. "Sorry boss, I had to…tie my shoe." The excuse was lame and Sark new it but he had pulled it off in his roughest Scottish accent.

"Don't let it happen again or it just might kill you." MacLean turned back around, motioning the rest of the pack to continue on, Sark breathing a sigh of relief in their wake.

As they walked, Sark let himself look around for the first time. The helicopter had flown them to a seemingly empty compound, buried deep within the desert. He wondered just how far they had flown because this didn't look like any part of Europe he had ever been to.

Sark looked forward just in time to catch the large, menacing, iron doors to the compound, begin to slid shut. Rushing forward, he made it inside just in time. He was met with instant cold air feeling strange and uncomfortable to his still quite warm back.

"McEvans!" MacLean's curt voice came from the front of the small procession. "Get up here right now!"

Sark strode his way to the front of the line. "Yes sir, you bellowed?"

"Don't be such a fuckin' smart ass McEvans or I swear to God I'll throw ye out inta the desert. Who'd be laughin' then eh?"

Sark bit his lip to keep himself quiet. Now was not the time to get distracted, especially by cussing out Travis MacLean while posing as one of his own "lackies."

"McEvans, I want you and Conway to escort Miss Bristow to the special holding cell we've got fer her. Ya think ya can handle the lass?"

"Yes sir." Sark said, having to forcibly stop himself from doing a mock salute. He looked over at the other man who had stepped out of line and was holding Sydney. "Tell you what; I'll hold Miss Bristow here and you do the directing alright…laddie?"

The man just nodded relinquishing Sydney to Sark's eager hands and turning around, beginning to walk down one of the many long corridors of the compound.

He couldn't believe how fragile she felt in his arms, like if he squeezed her body just a little tighter, she would shatter. He wanted to whisper in her ear that everything was alright but he couldn't let his cover be blown.

"McEvans, herry up!" Sark looked up to see Conway already at least twenty paces ahead of himself.

They walked for a long time in silence. From hunger, sleep deprivation or both, Sark found his mind wandering again. Something about this place seemed to release every single thought he never wanted to think about come up.

Conway stopped suddenly at a door and opened it. Sark walked through with Sydney.

The room had only one over hanging light, giving a dim and eerie appearance. The light illuminated a single flat bed that had similar resemblance to a hospital bed. Sark could just make out straps with which to hold the unlucky sap to the bed, hanging loosely at the bed's side.

A feeling of deep unease began to form at the pit of his stomach. "I thought we were taking Sydney to a holding tank?" He said, beginning to turn around.

All of the sudden he heard a click and felt the cool barrel of a gun against the back of his head. "We are…but ferst, we have somethin' special in mind fer yerself Mr. Sark and let me take this time to welcome ya to Compound X."

Sark mentally slapped himself at the sound of MacLean's malicious voice. How could he have been so stupid to have let his guard down and walked into such a simple trap?

"Could ya be so kind as to hand Miss Bristow over to Conway?"

Sark pulled Sydney close to his body protectively. "You'll have to pry her out of my dead hands MacLean."

"The thing you seemed to be miss-comprehendin' Mr. Sark, is that your death can be arranged quite easily. But something tells me that for once, you're not just lookin' out fer yerself. So let me enlighten ya as to what'll happen to Miss Bristow if your unfortunate demise occurs this night."

MacLean, walked around Sark so that their eyes locked with a passionate mutual hatred. It was then that Sark realized the room was full of Scottish fucks and that the wrong move of a finger would get him shot.

MacLean, brushed a strand of hair away from Sydney's face, gazing at her with a hunger that made Sark want to throw up. "While you're the one we're lookin' fer Mr. Sark, Miss Bristow could prove to be quite…pleasurable company…Make no mistake, we'd kill the lass…but…all in due time… I mean, the boys and I would never, ever, let such beautiful company go to waste."

"So really, it's all up to ya, Mr. Sark. Do ya continue to be a stubborn fool and get Miss Bristow here quite an interesting last couple of hours of life, or do ya let both of ya live and cooperate with me here?"

Sark gritted his teeth. He had no trouble believing MacLean would do good on his word about Sydney and that was something he just wouldn't let happen. "Ok." He released Sydney's unconscious form over to Conway.

"Thank ya very much Mr. Sark. Now, to deal with yerself." MacLean nodded and two rough pairs of hands grabbed Sark and began to push him towards the bed.

Sark felt fear flash through him for the first time in a while as they pushed him towards the table. He wouldn't do that again, he was done with that. "NO! NO! GET OFF ME YOU BASTARDS!"

Sark struggled with all his might, but with five men grabbing at him, he didn't have a chance in hell. They pushed him roughly onto the bed, strapping his arms and legs tightly so that he was unable to move.

"LET ME GO YOU STUPID FUCKS!" Sark struggled to get out, trying to do something, anything to prevent what was going to happen.

MacLean stepped forward, wagging a finger in his face. "Bad Mr. Sark, language like that'll jus' get ya a smack in tha face an' a rag in yer mouth. Strugglin' is no use either, nobody could get outta there, we've made sure."

Sark stopped struggling and MacLean smiled at the look of defeat in his eyes. "Good. Now, onta business." MacLean produced a pair of latex gloves, donning them as he spoke. "Ya might 'ave heard. My business associate has asked me to find a certain Rambaldi Artifact fer' him, an of course, I obliged. Now let me tell ya', I looked fer the sonuvabitch fer' quite sometime, but it weren't no where. I asked a lot of people too. I didn't hear a single thing fer quite some time until just recently. You know what I heard Mr. Sark?"

Sark glared into MacLean's eyes, his own fiery blue one's trying to burn death.

"I heard that a Professor Lazarey, at one time, knew exactly where this certain artifact was. But the poor man, like many before him mind ya, succumbed to his own fear of holdin' such important information." MacLean paused, giving his trademark sinister grin, revealing his mangled yellowing teeth. "I think ya' know the rest of the story quit well."

Sark tasted blood in his mouth, and it was only then that he realized that he'd been biting his tongue.

"So we tracked this Lazarey down…straight to his grave. I'll tell ya, we were quite ticked. But…luckily fer us, turned out he had a son. One, Julian Sark, in whom he had transferred all of his secrets to in as I understand quite a complicated and painful procedure. I couldn't believe my luck because I had just been working with a Mr. Julian Sark myself. And now here we are."

MacLean picked up a long syringe, testing it. "So it turns out that, the way yer father put the information into yer head, is almost the same way we've gotta get it out. See, I'll just pump ya full o' this handy substance a friend o' mine sold me, hook ya up ta a machine that'll monitor yer every thought while comatose and ultimately give me just what I need.

Sark watched the familiar red liquid ooze out of the syringe and he felt his insides being to churn. This wasn't happening again. He had promised himself it wouldn't happen again.

Sydney blinked her eyes a couple of times, letting the room come into focus. She wasn't even quite sure of where she was but she was aware of the fact that her hands were cuffed and that she was being held by a man.

There was a bed close to her, with a man on it and another man leaning over the first. How had she gotten her?

All of the sudden Sydney remembered everything, the mission, Spain, the hotel, the helicopter, fighting MacLean's men, Sark… She all of the sudden realized that the man strapped to the bed was none other than Sark himself.

She watched helplessly as MacLean ripped open Sark's shirt and roughly pushed a long syringe into Sark's bare chest. A loud and blood curdling scream emitted from his lips.

Sydney found herself screaming as well, struggling against the man holding her. "Stop! No! What are you doing to him!"

The last thing Sark heard was Sydney's voice thought it seemed to be coming from somewhere far, far away. Then slowly, everything faded into darkness and a thick, unbearable silence settled over everything too.


	12. Distractions

**It's been a looong time, but I've finally updated! Review and enjoy!**

A rough breeze blew across the vast Sahara Desert, stirring up clouds of sand in its wake. If one looked hard enough from above they would just be able to make out Sydney Bristow as she struggled in the sand.

It was hard enough trying to get through the desert with the urgency of the possibility that someone was going to come behind you and kill you in any second and the fact that Sydney was dragging an unconscious Sark along with her, didn't make the going any easier.

As she walked, she thought about how lucky she was to have gotten out alive.

Sydney had been helpless, chained to the wall, a man with a gun guarding her and Sark looking worse and worse, strapped to the table.

She had begun to work on loosening her handcuff the second that she had become conscious and even though her hand was just small enough to eventually slip through, with no lubrication, it was going to take a long time.

And so for hours, Sydney was forced to watch Sark and watch the machine he was hooked up to print out a piece of information. She eventually realized that the information was coming from Sark's brainwaves and that because his brain was working hard, less and less oxygen would be going to his brain. The machine was slowly but surely killing him.

When she finally got free Sydney discreetly let her aching hand fall to her side as she looked around the room once more. There was only her, Sark, MacLean and the man that was supposed to be guarding her.

Without even thinking, she jumped up from her sitting position and smacked the man beside her right in the neck, taking him down. She wrestled the gun away from him, kicking him in the face as she pulled away with it.

Sydney turned and found MacLean standing in front of her with a gun pointed right in her face.

"What do ya think yer doin' lassie?" His tone was quiet and deadly. "I jus don't understand 'ow one little cunt could cause so much trouble. In fact, yer far more trouble then yer werth."

Sydney swallowed hard as MacLean took the safety off the gun, his finger dangerously close to the trigger.

All of the sudden a low beeping noise occurred. MacLean's eyes lit up. "It's done." Before he could think he had turned around to face Sark and the machine, giving Sydney an opportunity that was too good to be true.

In a second she had flipped him onto the ground and had the gun pressed right against his temple. He grinned up at her, blood seeping from behind his head where he had hit the floor. "Lassie, you don't ave' tha balls ta kill me."

"I stopped myself from killing you before in California. I won't make that mistake again." Sydney turned away and despite the fact that she hated MacLean, it took her a second. When she finally pulled the trigger, she stepped back so that blood didn't splatter upon herself.

She turned to Sark, pulling out all the wires that attached him to the machine. "Sark, Sark, wake up!" She said, slapping him lightly on the cheek. "Please wake up! Please!"

His blue eyes fluttered open for a moment. "Sydney," he mumbled, before they closed again.

Sydney sighed in frustration. MacLean's lackies could come in at any time; she had to get them both out of there. "Damn you Sark." She said, as she hoisted his body up to a sitting position and pulled him onto her back.

At the last second, she looked over at the machine and grabbed the piece of paper it had printed out, stuffing it into her shirt.

The going had been tough, it was still tough, but she was alive, Sark was alive and so far nobody had come after them.

She slipped and fell into the sand, Sark on top of her. Pushing Sark off, she tried to get up but just couldn't bring her self to do it. She hadn't eaten in God knew how long, her muscles were just zapped of all their energy.

Sydney tried to keep her eyes open but it was just too hard. The last thing she remembered was a shadow looming over her body and a pair of booted feet, and then she passed out.

When Sydney woke up, she found a large man wearing a turban and dressed in a black robe bending over her. "I am glad you have finally woken."

Sydney sat up and found that she was in a dark tent, the only light being a lamp set in the middle of the tent. The man had dark skin, a goatee and a very thick Arabic accent. "Who are you and where am I?"

"Oh I am very rude to have not introduced myself. I am Ahmed Al-Karim and I run a traveling bazaar. My caravan was going through one part of the desert on our way to Cairo and we found you and your friend, both unconscious, lying in the sand. I did not want to leave you so I brought you with me, hoping you would both wake up."

"Thank you Mr. Al-Karim, I will be forever grateful for you saving both myself and my friend's life. Do you know where my friend is?"

Ahmed pointed to the other side of the tent and Sydney could just make out Sark's form lying on a cot.

"I'll leave you alone for a moment," Ahmed said and with that he exited the tent.

Sydney walked over to Sark. She knelt down beside him. Watching him sleep made Sydney come to the startling conclusion that she actually cared about him. She didn't know when it had happened or what he had done to make it happen but she did, and she didn't like herself for it one bit.

Sark opened his eyes slowly. He was surprised to find Sydney leaning over him. She was lost in thought and didn't notice that he was awake. He was glad that she was alright. The last time he had been awake she had been sleeping and he had been worried that she was hurt. Hearing what she had done for him from Ahmed had only made him like her more and he knew that if he wasn't careful, his feelings would probably make him do something stupid.

"It's good to see you conscious," he said finally, shaking Sydney out of her thoughts.

"Ditto for you," she said smiling at him.

"Well that's new; you've never smiled at me before." Sark said, teasingly.

"Sure I have," Sydney said, blushing slightly.

"Not like that," Sark said as he sat up in the cot. "That's one of those genuine smiles that start from the inside out and I haven't seen one in quite some time."

"Maybe if you weren't so pompous all the time people would like you better. Nobody feels good around pretentious people like you."

Sark moved forward, leaning dangerously close to Sydney. He could smell her now; it was a warm scent of rose petals and honeysuckle. "I think you like that I'm pompous. It's part of my charm." His lips were only an inch away from her's now. Damn. It was unavoidable. He was about to do something very, very stupid.

"Oh my God…are you serious? You're so conceited. Sometimes I cannot believe how big your head is and that you're such a…."

Sydney never got to finish her sentence as Sark silenced her with his lips.

The kiss was fervent and rough, filled with the mix of their passionate desire, frustrations, and fear. Both of them wanted to stop. They knew it was wrong and that it could never work out in this or any universe. But still they kissed.

Sark pushed her onto the cot, covering her body with his own and still not breaking the kiss.

When he finally did, they pulled away both breathing hard. They looked into each others eyes, fiery blue to deep searing brown, putting everything and anything they ever wanted to say in words, into their gaze.

Sark pulled Sydney to him and began to slowly unbutton her shirt. As he undid one of the middle buttons, a piece of paper fluttered out of her shirt, landing beside the cot.

They both stared at it, for a second. Sark dropped his hands, the task at hand forgotten entirely. He got up off Sydney and picked up the piece of paper, sitting back down next to her on the cot.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Yeah…I took it after I shot MacLean. I never got a chance to look at it though."

Sark's hands shook as he unfolded the piece of paper. "If this is really it then we'll have the only knowledge to where the Rambaldi Artifact is." He opened the paper and just stared at it.

"Damn it."


End file.
